Sherlock: The Boy Who Waited
by MsMagious
Summary: 1wait verb \ˈwāt\ Definition of WAIT transitive verb 1 : to stay in place in expectation of : await waited the result of the advertisement- When the TARDIS lands - well, more like crash-lands in Sherlock's back garden, he doesn't know that his life is about to change, forever. (M for later chapters, but not now.)
1. Crash-Landing

Sherlock- The man who waited

(A/N: Hello guys! So this idea popped into my head the other day, and it has yet to, well, get itself out.

I didn't really expect anyone to know, but I'm a fan of a very... well, a very odd ship, to say the least- that ship being the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes from 'BBC Sherlock'. Now, when I say a 'fan', I mean that I think, in a certain context, they would be cute together. Obviously, it would never be cannon, or even possible, really, and so this story has absolutely zero chance of happening.

Which is one of the major reasons that I'm writing it in the first place.

Now, don't get me wrong- I love all the companions, even those of the new Doctor (that being the 3 regenerations after the restart f the show), even though some of them have brought up some serious controversial points as to wether they were 'good' or 'bad' companions. But Sherlock needed to be placed in one of their timelines, at least for this story, and their character would have never have had the chance to influence the Doctor in this weird parallel universe-type-thing.

As such I chose Amy Pond's (And Rory Williams') time with him to replace, merely because at the time of the idea they were his newest companions and had not left. (Obviously now they have, and Clara is here.)

So, I hope you enjoy, and if you feel like leaving a review, they'd be greatly appreciated.

Thanks!

~MsMagious)

Sherlock was, to say the least, an odd boy. When the other toddlers were taking their first steps and speaking their first words, Sherlock was beginning to delve into physics textbooks worthy of college graduates. He spent nearly all his time alone, reading, and learning to puzzle out everythng about human nature. He began to notice things about the people around him- things nobody else really could. He knew weeks before he even bought the ring that His older cousin was proposing to his girlfriend, who would say no because she was in love with the mailman.

Sherlock found it all quite dull. That was his first word, in fact- dull. When his parents were shaking rattles over his crib and cooing at him. "Oh, look Sherly, the stars have come out! Let's take pictures. "

"Dull."

As children (and hmans in general) tend to do when something new and unnown scares them, they shunned Sherlock in school and around the street at home. "Freak! Why don't you go back to your books and your freaky stories!" Sherlock was always writing tiny novels about murders and a detective solving them- but it was all the scientific evidence. Always the evidence.

As he grew up, Sherlock spent more and more time in the garden out back, outside of their modest house. After the recession they couldn't afford nearly all of what they'd had before, and had fallen into middle class- he didn't mind.

The garden was pretty, full of shrubs and flowers and plants- and int he springtime it smelled like honey from the honeysuckle. He was out in the garden one evening, when he was eight years old, looking up at the stars and wondering about their chemical composition, when he heard a whirring-mixed-with-screeching. Looking around with his curls brushing his eyelashes, the boy went and hid under the archway so he could see when the thing, whatever that blue spinning box was, fell and hit the ground. Well,it did. He vaguely heard books falling and water splashing. The little boy ran out to the box, grabbing his plastic flashlight and tiny magnifying glass, leaning on his tip-toes to see the edge of the- it was a police box! How old were they? And who gaveit a (clearly broken) flying mechanism?

The door of the clever box swung (fell, it was sideways) open, and a grappling hook latched the edge not a milimeter from Sherlock's fingers, and a weird man in a soaked shirt, tie, and pants scrambled out, with nut-brown hair and a puppyish, grinning expression on his face. "Who are /you/?" Sherlock asked, wrinkling his nose and looking at the stranger with a tilted head.

"I'm the Doctor!" He said, and that's where Sherlock's very curious story began.

That's when Sherlock became the Boy Who Waited.


	2. FILLER CHAPTER UPDATE NOTICE

(Author's Note: AND SO ONE MONTH LATER THE -SAD- SAGA of me trying to write continues. A thousand apologies for being completely absent on the writing front.

Question for the next chapter: How soon do you guys want the romance? Because baby Sherlock is only eight years old, but I sense a time skip in the near future. For now, enjoy the filler chapter as my cat tries to claw my arm off.)

"The... Doctor?" Sherlock asked with some small amount of confusion. "Lots of people are doctors, but they have named besides .What's yours?" The boy asked curiously, peering at the alien critically. He didn't look very special, and his tie was backwards.

"No, no, I'm the Doctor and just the Doctor. I've forgotten my real name!" The curious man with the big blue box replied with a dorky smile, pushing his wet hair off of his forehead. At Sherlock's question of why was he wet, the Gallifreyan replied simply. "I fell in the pool. "

"Why were you at the pool with your clothes on?"

"Well, I was in the library,not the pool."

"No, stupid, you just said you fell in the pool!" Sherlock furrowed his brows, angry that he was confused, because he was always supposed to be right.

"Well, the pool fell in the library." The Doctor cautiously allowed.

With that logic seeming completely unreasonable, Sherlock took two steps back, loafers shiny with the dew of the night grass. He took small, boyish strides around the blue box, shining his torch around it as he judged its size. Then, he leaned over the edge, eyes widening as he gazed down into what appeared to be a vast ship, filled with clutter as it was. "You... you have a ship. That looks like a police box." He deduced quietly. "A failed camouflage system, perhaps? "Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. "And it contains a parallel dimension inside it, like in that one storybook I read." He got a bit more excited.

The Doctor stared at Sherlock, eyes wide as his blunt intelligence- how old was he, eight? Nine? Too young to be a genius. "Where are your parents?"He asked cautiously.

"Away. They always are, nowadays. I never get very noticed." Sherlock shrugged, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the TARDIS.

"Well... if you like," The Doctor began with a growing smile. "I can take you for a ride."

The little boy's hardened face lit up with exuberant joy, and he jumped to his feet. "Wow, really? I'll go pack a bag!" With the Doctor's promise that he would be back in two minutes, (just have to set the old girl right side up!) He ran upstairs, packing a tiny black doctor's bag with his few treasured items in the world- his father's old smoking pipe and deerstalker, and his mum's blue scarf-, running back out and sitting down on the bench, waiting eagerly.

He waited for six hours, until the first threads of pink dawn began to weave into the early morning sky.

(Reviews are love!~

~MsMagious)


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